


The last time I saw the sun

by weeo



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Lack of air, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of asphyxia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Repressed Feelings, Sexual Fantasy, Smoking, Survival, Tunnel collapse, War, World War I, tunneling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-14 15:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeo/pseuds/weeo
Summary: The 179th Tunneling Company works under the Flanders fields. At the end of November 1915, the tunnel collapses, blown up by a German camouflet. All the company is buried alive, with the sole exception of three tunnellers.





	The last time I saw the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThomasssShelby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomasssShelby/gifts).



> Hi! I had a lot of fun writing this Tommy/Freddie piece for you. I really hope you'll enjoy it and that's what you were looking for!  
> I want to thank my lovely beta reader @TinyPineTrees for her help, it's a way better work since she gave me her advice !

Flanders, end of november 1915

My breathing is stopped for a few moments, when my chest crashes violently against the ground. It’s dark. I can’t see anything and the metallic taste of the dirt fills my mouth, as I’m attempting to catch my breath. There is no air around me and I’m starting to feel dizzy. I’m trying to flounder but my limbs barely move. I know where I am. Buried under kilometers of earth, squashed by tons of clay. The good news is that I’m going to leave France. Finally. 

\-----------

Tommy’s hand is pulled brutally and urgently. He’s being freed from the ground’s claws, lifted painfully of the clay by the undersides of his shoulders. The two topple over backwards, caught up by the force used to pull him out of the ground. They inevitably drag Tommy down with them. His face and his chest are prepared to hit the soil once again, but they bounce back with less force against the torso of one of his rescuer. Instinctively, Tommy inhales a big gasp of oxygen and the air fills up his lungs wildly. While his shaky breathing takes a few seconds to steady, he forces his eyes to open and discerns again an ounce of light through the damp clots of mud which stick to his face. It’s while moving slightly his body, that he notices an arm encloses his waist. Another covers the side of his head, pressing him more in this familiar chest, which starts vibrating all of a sudden.

“You’ve been lucky Tommy,”

He could recognise this voice among millions. He has already made him come to his senses several times. Freddie is always the first to speak, after miraculously getting out of troubles. 

“A damn lucky bastard!” 

In another situation, Tommy would have smiled against his friend’s chest. He wouldn’t have in any way needed to make the effort to lift his head, to be sure that Freddie was doing the same. However, they aren’t the children they used to be anymore. They aren’t in Small Heath, swimming from one side to the other of the canal banks or running to avoid being taken home by a panting police officer. So, there is no smiles today.

Danny coughs quietly, alerting them of his presence. Tommy forces himself up self-consciously, laying eyes on him.

“Danny, where is the bird ?”

Danny points the cage hanged on the wall. The canary isn’t panicked and even twirls peacefully, as if he has already forgotten the vicious dread he felt when the tunnel collapsed. Tommy would like to take its place, in order to feel that intangible serenity again. The fear, he is feeling since he set down a foot on this land, doesn’t ease with the time. Rather, it’s increasing, every nightmarish incident pushing it further, one notch at a time. A notch that never goes down, which is becoming your permanent level of fear. The more you know what can fall on you in this hell, the more you have reasons to let the terror consumes you from head to toes.

“I’ve already checked. The bird’s doing fine, Sir.”, Danny answers, sat against the wall of the tunnel.

Tommy completely pulls away from Freddie’s body to sit, still a bit dumbfounded by his underground stay. He dusts faintly his clothes, before realizing that it’s totally useless. The sight of their condition softens the movement of his hand. He is covered by dirt on his entire body. No corner of his skin is spared. Tommy raises his gaze, blinking through the candlelight coming from Danny’s hands.

“Good. We’re at least safe from the gas for now. And how is the air ?”

Freddie straightens himself, trying to see through the dim light as well.

“The light’s steady and won’t go out, but it’s dim.” Danny said, trying but failing to disguise the anguish in his voice.

Freddie lays his hand on Tommy’s collarbone, pressing soberly. The blocked air in Tommy’s contracted chest is released gently, in a sigh of relief. His gaze, that Freddie seeks to share, isn’t disturbed by this soothing gesture. Tommy stares stubbornly the canary in his cage, hanged on the wall in front of him.

“We couldn’t have expected better air, half buried in the ground.”, Freddie reassures them, unsure if he says it more for himself than his friends. 

Danny’s hands, which tighten the candle with strength, are trembling. It creates a sinister moving light inside the tunnel. Their faces are worthy of a chiaroscuro painting. The light giving him a even more serious look, Tommy adds without blinking : “The rescue team might already be on the way. We’re not too far from the exit. We just have to hope that those fuckers didn’t dig a second counter tunnel to blow them up.” 

To his own words, Tommy’s jaw is clenching. Freddie noticed that he does this often lately, when he can’t allow himself to start panicking. When he’s feeling caught in a vice and is looking for a quick solution. Gritting his teeth with all their strength prevents him to scream the frustration, which is already dripping from his furrowed eyebrows. 

“What will we do... if-if they blow us up too ? …. Or if they can’t find us ? Di-did you think… about that ?” Danny panics, with an unstable voice.  
“And… And all those guys who’re buried... dead in-in the clay. We could pray for them”

“Yeah, we could have if it meant something here.” Freddie mocks. This isn’t a surprising answer coming from him, the only God he believes in is named Karl Marx. 

Imperturbable, Tommy can’t take his eyes off the canary, which is a bit agitated in his cage. All the attention of his eyes is focused on the animal, but the part of his brain which controls his mouth is still with his teammates : “Now, we just have to sit and breathe slowly to keep the air pure, Danny. Just sit and breathe the fucking air slowly.”

Danny brings his right hand to his skull, to salute his superior. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“I can already hear them dig. The rescue team isn’t far away. Breathe slowly.”

The ambiance is calm but stressful. The canary starts to grow agitated in his cage, but seems also a bit dizzy. It hits the bars and goes back to his perch.

Shattering the heavy silent atmosphere, a distant explosion is heard and makes the tunnel shakes. Gravels are falling on their heads and are tumbling on the walls of the tunnel. The wet timbers creak and the light of the candle is swirling. Tommy’s eyes leave the canary’s cage and he protects instinctively his head, as well as Freddie’s, by throwing them both on the ground. The timbers keep up and the silence settles again. They stay a few seconds petrified in their position, being on the lookout for a second explosion. 

“It was just a shell up there.” Freddie mutters, patting his friend’s back. 

Danny’s gasping breathing obliges them to come to their senses quicker than they would have liked. It’s not a pretty sight that they discover in front of them, but strangely familiar at the same time. Danny is shaking like a leaf, shudders rattling his whole body. Suffocating breaths are squeezing out of his thickening throat, choking the life from him second by second. Intermittently, he shouts baffling sentences and punches randomly, cutting the air with strength. Tommy and Freddie exchange a very brief look and jump on Danny, each on a side to try to control him.

“1,2,3! Down!”

Freddie blocks relatively easily Danny’s left shoulder on the ground. The other arm slips from Tommy’s hands and he receives a violent punch in the jaw. He attempts several times to block his right arm while avoiding punches in the face and finally ends up to tackle it on the ground.

“Danny, breathe !” Freddie orders, pressing harder on his shoulder to stick it against the ground. 

Tommy brings his head closer to Danny’s ear, while tightening his grip on the biceps which is still struggling with energy. A few drops of blood mixed with saliva drip of the corner of his mouth, when he opens it to talk.

“Breathe, Danny! Breathe slowly. Listen to me ! Try to keep the rhythm of my own breathing.”

Tommy takes deep inhalations he’s releasing slowly, in order to encourage Danny to mimic his breathing. Danny’s gaze drifts unconsciously for a moment, lucidity bleeding in slowly. When his eyes meet a glimpse of Tommy’s, they finally focus. Tommy slows down his speech speed and the volume of his voice, to help him to calm down faster.

“It was just a shell up there. Breathe slowly. It’s just noise. You’ll get use to it, Danny. Follow my breath. It’s just noise that can’t harm you right now.”

Danny struggles to get back to his senses, his breathing easing, although it’s still agitated. Freddie and Tommy release him after a brief look of consultation and sprawl themselves on the walls behind each of them. There is still air all around them, but it feels tight, and diminished. A bit as if they were strangled bit by bit.

“I can hear them. They’re closer, they’re coming for us. Now we don’t move to save the remaining air !”, Tommy orders.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It keeps happening lately and I’m afraid to go mad.”, Danny apologises while fiddling on his clothes.

“Just the nerves, Danny. There is plenty of men like you in here. A fucking stressful place, it sure is. Stop talking and breathe slowly.”

Danny has his mouth opened to claim that the orders had been understood, but no words can leave it. A sudden noise was added to the rescuers’ shovels. The sound they hoped they wouldn’t hear since the tunnel has collapsed. The hollow sound of resonance against the wood that anguishes them all. The sound that Tommy were looking out for with apprehension when he was staring at the cage of the bird. The sound of the canary which falls from his perch.

The three men are petrified by this noise, which resonates in the tunnel. They turn their head towards the cage, to confirm that it isn’t their minds which were playing a trick on them. Tommy reacts suddenly with panic.

“PUT YOUR GAS MASKS!!” 

The three men unhook a fabric pocket of their belt with shaking hands. They grab the masks out in a haste, pulling them over their faces. They received them a few weeks ago. After the gas attacks at Ypres, the British army started to produce protections. Calling it a gas mask is a big word. This is more a hood with a soaked compress in the area of the mouth. He never used it but he heard a lot about it. The men of the front line don’t discuss so much their feelings and fears, but are inexhaustible when it comes to criticizing their equipment and superiors. 

“These new masks are easier to use but they’re deep shit.” Tommy remembers a discussion with the infantry men. “The other day, a soldier fainted in only 20 minutes.”, their words resonates in his skull more than ever.

Tommy gets up roughly to pick up the shovels at their disposal, which are lying in the tunnel, while Freddie and Danny still set up their masks.

“Tommy, what are you doing ?” Freddie hails. 

“The only thing we learned here, digging”, on his last word, Tommy throws a shovel to Freddie’s feet. He clears pieces of wood, formerly parts of the tunnel timbers, and then digs with willingness in the clay.

“We don’t have a lot of time in front of us if we wanna get out of here alive, come on Freddie!”, he shouts and waves his hand.

Freddie joins him. His eyes wide and his hands shaking, he tries to help Tommy by alternatively digging and pushing annoying pieces of timber. His gestures are wild and uncoordinated.

“I’m digging, pick up the parts of timber you can save and make us safe!” Tommy instructed, seeing Freddie doesn’t really know how to manage the situation. 

Behind them, Danny tries to stand and help, but his legs give out on him as he’s hit by a dizzy spell. Freddie glares annoyingly at him.

“Tommy, Danny isn’t feeling well...”

Tommy turns his head towards Danny, without really interrupting the work of his hands. 

“Danny, listen to me ! Fucking stay down and breathe slowly ! We gonna get out of here.” Tommy shouts, without worrying about the noises the Germans could catch for once. His words echo in the tunnel, which is a really unusual thing for the three tunnelers.

An unknown voice can be heard behind the wall Tommy he’s digging in : “Is there someone here ? How many are you ?”. The tangled crumbled timbers let appear some small holes, enabling the communication with the rescue team behind the wall. They just need to shout what they have to say.

“We’re three. There is gas in here ! One man is already down. We need to be quick !” Tommy answers despite the distress, managing to keep a disconcertingly cool head. Freddie is persuaded that he wouldn’t have been able to explain their situation as quickly as Tommy had.

“You heard! We need to be quick, there is gas inside!”, the rescuer screams to his teammates.

Tommy is unable to stop digging. He’s choking on his breath, suffocating more with every hit of his shovel, but he can’t pause. A fatality he doesn’t have any power on would make him go insane. The rescuer’s tools hit harder and harder on the wall. They’re close.

While Freddie is blocking a piece of timber on the side of the wall to stabilise it, a strong headache is striking him and makes him see blinding glitters all around. He’s leaning against the wall, but the blurry lights assaulting his vision, blind him more and more. His legs are supporting him only precariously and he sits to regain a bit of strength. The air is increasingly unbreathable and burns his throat. He invests his few remaining forces in an effort to stand up, but Tommy places his hand on his chest to prevent him to do it. 

“The air is better near the ground, just fucking stay down !”

Tommy brings his head nearer to the wall and shouts with strength : “We have a second man down ! I’m digging alone, we need to be quicker !”.

After another dozen hits of shovel, a hole is starting to form in the wall and some light is radiating from it. His survival frenzy seizes his body even more. Tommy hits violently the wall with his shovel and the small hole is now large enough to let a human pass. 

The adrenaline prevented him to feel the nausea rising, but he experiences it full force now. The shape of the rescuer emerging from the hole is all blurry. The lips of the man move, and his voice is barely perceptible. It resonates to a low volume, muffled by his knocking headache. Only the piercing buzz, which is ringing vigorously in each of his ears, seems clear. He remembers he was shivering some seconds ago, but now, an unpleasant heat is spreading in every single one of his limbs. His face is burning and there’s no part of his body that isn’t sweating. The heat should have no impact on this but it seems to further deteriorate his vision. His head is spinning and he suddenly feels his body emptying the last bit of energy he had left. 

Tommy forces his eyes open, realizing he must’ve closed them at some point and finds himself in the arms of the stranger who was facing him just before. He notes that the breathing of the man is really very noisy, before understanding that it’s amplified by the oxygen tanks he carries on his back. 

“We only have two stretchers, Sir!”

“Put the two thinnest on the same and the strongest on the other, quick ! They need to breathe fresh air, they don’t have for long if they stay here” 

He has no recollection of these voices. He still arduously breathes, his lungs burned by the gas. “Am I still in the tunnel or already in hell”, Tommy wonders, before realising that his eyelids are shutting down on their own. Everything is dark again. 

It’s an aggressive light which brings Tommy to open his eyes one more time. His inflamed bronchus welcome the fresh air with some difficulty. He coughs and his irritated throat doesn’t spare him of strong pains. His lungs are raw, burned by the gas. However, the sun is caressing his body and warming his shivering skin. The pestilential effluviums of the tranchees are lightly covered by a familiar scent, tickling his nose. Tommy feels Freddie’s whole body pressed against him on the stretcher, shaking to the rhythm of the paramedics’ steps. He would never have noticed that his hands were trembling, if Freddie didn’t enclosed them discreetly between his own. Usually, it was Tommy who held Freddie’s hands when they were children. Freddie was so upset against everything and everyone, that he got in a lot of fights with petty boys. Occasionally, some things they said hit him right in the heart and the stables were a good place to drown all the sorrows. But today, it’s Tommy who needs Freddie. 

Under the bright rays of sunshine, Tommy forgets for a while his burned throat and his erratic breathing. All he can think is : “It’s been months since I last saw the sun. How beautiful it is. And if I die today, I’m glad it’s while looking at the sun one last time with Freddie.”

\---------------------------------------

A few weeks later  
Military hospital, december 1915

Tommy strikes a match thanks to the abrasive part of the box. It’s gone out as quick as it ignited. The chilly squalls, along with the ambient humidity caused by the torrential storm, are surely to blame. He’s leaning against crates of God-Knows-What. The rain is dripping abundantly from the eave over his head. The smell of the rain is comforting and the deluge covers the sound of the shells crushing far away. An extinguished cigarette hanging out between his lips, he’s fascinated by the drops of water which are crushing against the soil, lost in his thoughts. So fascinated, that he didn’t even notice Freddie’s arrival. His gaze absorbed by the spectacle of the nature, he takes a second chance, by covering his matchstick more with his hands. The wind blows it out once again.

Freddie walks to Tommy to position himself in front of his friend with his back to the wind. He takes the match box from Tommy’s hands and lights one to the level of his cigarette. Tommy brings his hands around the flame too, brushing lightly Freddie’s fingers. Tommy takes some deep drags of his smouldering cigarette. 

Freddie steps back to his side and also leans on the crate.

“The nurse tells you your lungs work well again and the first thing you do is smoke ?” Freddie asks bluntly, a small smile decorating the corner of his lips. 

“Why are you here then ?”

“Who knows ?” 

He looks up to the sky, while tapping lightly his pack on his other hand to slide a cigarette out. 

“Sergeant Major Shelby now ?”, Freddie asks, turning his head towards Tommy, searching his eyes.

“Seems like it”, he replies as he takes a drag of his cigarette, without bothering to look to his friend.

“Finally, some good news !”

“Sounds more like a poisoned gift. You’ll all hate me before the end of this.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Tommy puts his hands on the top of the crate to stabilise him, while he moves his legs in a more comfortable position. 

“They’re sending us off to the Somme. The british troops from Gallipoli are also mobilised there. I guess they’re preparing something big.”

Freddie pauses for a few seconds.

“You don’t seem happy to see your brothers again.”

“Not really. I wished it’d be somewhere else.”

Tommy’s sentences are simple and short, but Freddie always thought they have the ability to crush your heart with their melancholia. For a few moments, they smoke their cigarette silently, just enjoying this taste they missed and the presence of the other.

“We can’t wear it often but the uniform suits you well. Yours looks even clean.” 

“I don’t think that the same can be said about you.”

“You mean the cleanliness or my incredible charm in uniform ?” Freddie asks with a wide smile in his gaze.

“Choose what you’d prefer to hear.” Tommy glances at him on the corner of his eyes, smiling lightly and teasingly to his friend. A little muffled laugh escapes both of their mouth. But the pleasure is only of a short duration, their faces become serious again quickly after.

Freddie throws his stub on the ground and crushes it with his foot. He tilts his head in the direction of the door.

“Let’s go inside. The wind gets up. It’d be too stupid to go through all this shit and die knocked over by a flying branch.”

Tommy nods and crushes his cigarette on the ground too, before following Freddie inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my first attempt at writing a fic, I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> In your prompt, you also asked to develop why Freddie and Tommy came home as enemies. I've had a lot of ideas for this. So that's why I uploaded this story as a multichapters fic. If you liked it, I'm willing to continue this story to get to their disagreements/arguments. 
> 
> (For the people with a soft heart, they used the canaries to detect the presence of carbon monoxide, an imperceptible lethal gas which terrified the miners during WW1. It was produced by the explosion of mines or the firing of a gun in a tunnel. Usually, the birds only fainted and were saved. If they had lived that a few times already, they were sent to retirement.)


End file.
